


Order in The Court

by SpoiledAmbrosia



Category: Smile For Me (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Growth, Muscle Growth, [law and order noise], brute transformation, court! but horny, gradual growth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-30 23:42:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19413925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpoiledAmbrosia/pseuds/SpoiledAmbrosia
Summary: Parsley loses his temper during a case.





	Order in The Court

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JaredFace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaredFace/gifts).



Scotch had seen a few courthouses in his days, and, yeah, that only made two, but that was  _ twice _ as many as any other law-abiding citizen. Or was it triple? He eyed his attorney, the squarish blonde sorting out papers across the table. Craning his neck, Scotch whispered down. “Psst, hey. I’ve got  _ triple _ the charges than some average Joe, right?” 

His lawyer gave him a confused once-over, cocking a furry brow at the question while smoothing over his papers. “I’d...have to check, Mr. Free,” he muttered under his breath, sneaking glances up at the judge. “You’ve got quite the history, and with these  _ charges- _ ” 

Scotch blew through his lips, hearing enough to know where his lawyer was going. “Forget it, man,” Scotch huffed, heavy arms crossing over his chest. “‘M not squealin’ on m’self, you crazy?” A pinky was enough to nudge his lawyer, the man’s chair rocking on its legs under the careless shove. “Do yer job, huh? Get me outta here, or my boys will be in  _ touch. _ ” The last part was said as a murmur, Scotch grinning at his lawyer’s throat bobbing. “If ya’ catch my drift…” 

Like he’d said, he’d been through this before. People knew who he was, knew it wasn’t a good idea to go poking their nose into his business. “Just do your job, buddy, and we  _ allll  _ walk away just fine.” “Looking over the court, Scotch squinted at the empty stand next to theirs. “Hey, where is the guy? Thought this thing was ‘posed to be over’ hours ago.”

His lawyer gave a snickering reply. “If  _ only, _ ” came his bold reply, shrinking immediately under his client’s glare. Head sinking between his shoulders, the man gave a nervous laugh. “Mr. Botch is good at his job, Mr. Free,” came his squeaking explanation. “He’s  _ very _ good, and with your record and  _ him _ being who I’m up against, you might be - how should I say this... _ betteroffpleadingguiltyandhopingforthebest? _ ” 

Scotch grunted, shaking his wiry locks around his ears, blowing away the tuff that landed over his nose. “No _ stinkin’ _ way!” Scotch had the mind to keep his voice down, growling close to his attorney's ear. “Innocent until proven, right?” Scotch settled back in his small chair, stretching his neck around the pinch of his tie. “Prove it, then, otherwise, I ain’t sayin’ nuthin’.” 

The courthouse was welcomed to a swift entrance, doors swinging open and almost clipping the heel of a well-dressed man. “Sorry I’m late, your honor!” Scotch turned to watch the man hurry over to his side of the courtroom, suitcase sliding over the woodtop, clasps undone and papers filling the space. “Hate to waste your time, you know that.” Scotch didn’t fight the grimace that pulled onto his face at the man’s cocky whistle at the sight of his papers. “Shouldn’t be a long one, with this record.” 

To his side, his attorney meekly chimed in. “Told you.” 

The judge regarded Parsley with short interest, drooping eyes behind glasses more concerned with the woodwork than the lawyer. “Mr. Botch, good to see you’ll be joining us this morning.” The judge’s probing eyes made their onto Scotch, who felt himself sitting up straighter in his chair. “I assume you’ve made yourself familiar with the details of Mr. Free’s case?” 

Parsley gave a wave of the assembled papers, a worn sigh coming from him. “ _ Intimately _ , your honor.” Thumbing through the hefty stack, Parsley shook his head as he poured over the details. “About as familiar as Mr. Free’s gotten with our town’s boys in blue, looks like.” 

Nodding, the judge adjusted his glasses, eyes locking onto Scotch. “Then let’s not draw this out, shall we?” With a gesture, the judge beckoned for Scotch to stand - he did, reluctantly. Scotch felt uneasy under the quiet scrutiny of the judge. He looked like a hardass. 

“Mr. Free, you stand accused of trespassing, disorderly conduct and-” The judge’s dull eyes rolled slowly in their sockets, shaking his head at the list of charges. “Damages to the town’s arcade?” Glasses dipping down the bridge of his nose, the judge gave Scotch a disappointed leer. “ _ Again, _ Mr. Free?” 

Scotch lifted his shoulders. “Busted machine stole my money.” And that game  _ cheated.  _

The judge nodded, humming in his throat. “Yes, yes, I do hope you got your quarters back. How do you plead?” 

Below him, Scotch felt a jabbing sensation against his thigh; his lawyer nudging him none too gently with his elbow. Scotch could just barely make out the hushed  _ ‘’not guilty.’’ _

Scotch wore a confident smile as he gave his answer. “Not guilty.” A nudge to his side, a grumble later. “...yer honor.” He took his seat again, trying his best not to squirm under the judge’s eyes. 

The judge let out his sigh subtly. “Of course, Mr. Free, of course.” Eyes rolling over to Parsley’s side of the court, the judge gestured with the head of his gavel. “Mr. Botch, if you would?” 

Parsley’s cheeks puffed as he straightened out the knots in his back, fighting off the yawn that was tickling his throat. “Ok _ aaay _ , let’s get this over with, got a few early bird specials I wanna hit.” Smacking the papers in hand, Parsley took a wide berth around his table. Sliding the stack across the judge’s table, Parsley turned, bringing his fist to his mouth as he cleared his throat.

“For whatever reason, Mr. Free, we won’t be seeing any witnesses because - well,” Parsley gave a withering glance over the court, the few of them making up the room. “No one came forward, but-” 

“So where’s yer proof?” Scotch asked, plainly ignoring the tugs and nudges from his own lawyer. Parsley balked, words fumbling, hand killing a sudden itch at the back of his head. 

“Well, there’s -  _ substantial  _ evidence linking you-”

_ “Where?” _ Scotch interrupted again, gaining an icy glare from the judge, he sneered through it. “Sounds to me like yer just tryin’ to stick me for somethin’ I didn’t do! How’s that  _ fair? _ ” 

Clearing his throat at Scotch’s side, his own lawyer raised his hand. “That’s hardly fair, your honor.” The stout man was practically whispering. “M-my client may f-frequent the arcade, but that doesn’t pr-prove anything.” 

Parsley didn’t look convinced, neither did the judge. Scoffing at the implication, Parsley shook his head. “Mr. Free, while the witnesses may not be here, the fines against you speak for themselves.” 

Scotch gave a grunt, crossing his arms, chin up and staring down the lawyer. “Machine was broken when I got there.”

Parsley opened his mouth to protest, “No, it  _ wasn’t- _ ” Mouth smacking shut, Parsley silenced himself, breathing deeply before continuing. “Mr. Free, do you happen to wear a size 19 shoe?” Parsley watched the gears turn in the defendant's head, a coy smile pulling onto the lawyer’s face. “If so, there was a single shoe left _ in _ the machine. The authorities believed you might’ve lost it when you, ah, _ lost. _ ”

Parsley waited on the realization that was sure to come to Scotch’s face, the dawning that he’d been caught red-handed - and it didn’t come. Instead, the ginger’s face turned mellow, hair swishing around his head as he shook it.

“Don’t know my size, sorry,” Scotch said, the apology slapped onto the end for show. His face said it all; he knew he was guilty, he was just playing the victim. Parsley had seen enough of his type to know how this case was gonna go, he felt the headache behind his temples already. 

Parsley tried to ease the throb with a brief press of his fingers, feeling it pulse harder at the cocksure _ crook.  _ “Alright, remember your trip to the arcade? Wasn’t exactly at normal business hours, was it?” 

Scotch chewed his lips, spitting out the flesh puffed and red. “I dunno,” admitted Scotch, untruthfully. He paid little attention to the lawyer, or at least pretended to, he was pretty good at that. Better than this hack was at his job, anyway. 

Parsley’s shoe tapped out an impatient rhythm on the floor, hand on his hip and temple, fingers raking through hair to land on his neck - burning under the flush spreading from his collar. “You don’t recall  _ \- anything? _ ” Parsley’s words ended in a grunt, face screwing up as he slipped a few fingers under his collar. 

“Nothing’s comin’ to mind?” Another tug at his collar gave way to his tie slipping, giving room to breath - until his antsy fingers were back at his neck, a web of veins pulsing against his reddening skin. “Y’know, we might not have witnesses, but there were  _ cameras _ , Mr. Free.” Parsley shifted in place, skin’s flush burning deeper, his suit looking a bit too  _ snug _ on him. “Going for the innocent angle ain’t gonna help.” 

Scotch blinked, trying to make sense of it, and failed. “Uhh,” came his droning response, Scotch’s brain feeling like it had went blank watching the lawyer stretch out his uniform. “Nah. Nah, I dun...dunno nuthin’.” What the hell was goin’ on? “Psst,  _ hey! _ ” Scotch directed his whisper down to his lawyer, the man having decided to sink as low as he could in his chair. “What’s with this shrimp? He’s, like,  _ weird. _ ” 

Scotch’s lawyer spared him a fleeting glance. “I  _ told  _ you to plead guilty! He’s no joke!” 

Parsley’s socks were on display as he stalked around the courthouse, pants looking suspiciously tight around his legs, hard contours of his calves pulling the stitching tight. “Listen, Mr. Free,” all the tact was gone from Parsley’s tone, sounding on the edge of growling. “Just plead guilty, make this easier on everyone?” 

Scotch gave a concerned look to Parsley’s attire, not sure what to make of the buttons under stress, sleeves and collar looking more like snares on his bigger frame. Had to be some kinda trick, he wasn’t falling for it. “I-” 

_ Pop. _ Scotch watched a glint of shiny plastic free itself from Parsley’s shirt, a button lost from the  _ surge _ of dense flesh behind it. Parsley didn’t flinch, the subtle twitch of his brow his only reaction, the slow heave of his chest filling out his shirt. “Well? Not guilty? Feelin’ up to - _ hng, _ talkin’ any?” The flesh over Parsley’s hands writhed with pulsing veins, the idle shift pulling his sleeves taut around his biceps, looking painted on by the time the growth ebbed to a stop. 

“Bustin’ the lock on the arcade, kickin’ the holy -  _ heck _ outta the machine?” Scotch jumped in his seat when Parsley’s chest blew into the air, buttons popping up and soaring through the air. Scotch’s throat wobbled when Parsley’s eyes pierced through him, looking to stand taller than he had moments before. The lawyer gave a careless flex, a seam along his bicep splitting his blazer’s sleeves. “Ringin’ any bells?” 

Scotch’s eyes darted between the vigilant judge and the growing lawyer, even daring a glance to his own attorney before he studied the table. “I-I dunno, m-maybe? Look, I just-” 

A series of wizzing  _ pops _ came with the shadow Parsley cast over Scotch, wide hands spreading over the tabletop, swollen mounds of his pecs close to Scotch’s flushing face. “Oh,  _ c’mon!  _ Y’know y’did it, just  _ say it! _ ” Parsley snarled in his face, tie loosening itself around his treetrunk of a neck, muscles bulging with the force of his shout. 

Scotch fidgeted on the spot, hands fiddling with each other under the table, trying his best - and failing - at pretending not to be scared, but he was pretty fuckin’ scared. “Jesus, what’dya want!?” 

Behind Parsley, the judge gave a quick tap with his gavel. “Order in the court, please.” 

Parsley, grunting around another bout of growth that had his suit screaming for mercy, leaned in close to Scotch, the glassy look in the lawyer’s eyes a far cry from the composed man he’d been. His pecs squeezed through the gaps of his buttons, each breath adding an impossible bulk to his herculean proportions. “Say yer guilty, punk, ‘fore I  _ make _ you.” 

Beneath the two of them, Scotch’s lawyer tried to speak up and ended up squeaking. “I’d listen to him if I were you.” 

It wasn’t like they were giving him much choice. Scotch’s lips were dry when he went to speak, licking over them with an even dryer tongue. “I- I’m n-not-” Scotch kept on stuttering, tongue clumsy in his head. “Not  _ gu-” _

Parsley’s blazer exploded in a show of buttons and frays, tie lost to the deep canyon splitting his pecs, hands creeping over the edges of the table and squeezing dents into the wood. “Say it. ** _Say it!_** Say y’guilty!” Parsley rushed what was left of the space separating himself and Scotch, the lawyer’s bloodshot eyes staring holes through him. “I can **_smell_** it on ya’.” Parsley did give him a curious sniff, Scotch forced to remain still while the lawyer got closer. 

Scotch felt his eyes stinging, tears welling up in the corners, head down and hands just about rubbed raw under the table. Jesus, enough was  _ enough. _

“Okay!  _ Okay! _ I did it! All of it, just - just get this guy the hell away from me!” Scotch finally cried out, nearly falling out of his chair to get away from Parsley. Satisfied, Parsley snorted one last time over Scotch’s hair, exposing the sparkling blue eyes of the crook. 

_ “Shrimp…”  _ Parsley muttered, his gait a wide one as he stomped back to his stand. The judge gave a quick tap of his gavel, Scotch’s lawyer giving a relieved sigh. 

“Mr. Free, thank you for your cooperation,” he gave a hard slam to the wood. “Court is adjourned.” 


End file.
